


Not going to the theatre

by imsfire



Series: The Jem Chronicles [2]
Category: The Town (2010)
Genre: Apparent Non-con, F/M, NSFW, may seem triggering, mild bondage, stick with it if so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:50:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1249963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imsfire/pseuds/imsfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming home to an uninvited visitor...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not going to the theatre

The moment she walked into the apartment she knew something was wrong. The through-doors to the bedroom and kitchen were open; she always left them closed.  
She had time, just, to grasp the implications of this, before there was a sound at her back and she was seized from behind and held. A powerful arm wrapped itself across her abdomen, pinning both her forearms, and at the same time a large, rough hand clapped over her mouth and jerked her head back, sharply. Her scream was broken off in a stifled squeal of pain and shock. She squirmed helplessly, crushed against the body behind her, gasping in terror through the pressure clamped on her face.  
Close by her right ear a familiar voice hissed “Not a sound, d’ya hear? Not a fuckin’ sound, or I break ya neck. Ya got that?”  
It was a struggle even to nod her head but she managed, a strangled whimper escaping her with the movement.  
“Okay. Great. Now, listen up, ‘cause we are gonna have a little conversation. Ya know why I’m here. Ya got some information it so happens I need. We can make this easy, ya can say what I need to hear and that’s the end of it, or ya can act dumb and not tell me, and I can make ya. It’s ya choice, lady.”  
He uncovered her mouth, just enough for her to draw a clear breath, the air entering her body hot from his palm. She gasped “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” and his hand crushed over her face again.  
“Wrong answer…”  
He half-walked, half-dragged her across the room to the dinner table and suddenly swung her round to face him. Gripping her arms again he thrust her down forcibly onto one of the chairs. In an instant he had moved behind her as she babbled “Please, let me go, I don’t know anything, please, don’t hurt me!”  
He hauled her arms back roughly. She felt something cold, and there was a click. Instinctively she began to struggle again, and the steel bracelets cut at her wrists. She had been handcuffed to the chair. Her assailant put his hand over her face again, from behind, covering mouth and nose both for a moment, then releasing just enough pressure over her nostrils to let her breathe.  
“There’s just one thing I need to hear ya say, and ya know what it is. Last chance to make this easy. Ya gonna play nice, or do I have to play nasty for ya?”  
Once again he uncovered her mouth, but only for long enough for her to whimper “I don’t know what you mean!”  
He sighed. “Okay, we got a stubborn one here. Okay.”  
He pulled her head back, hard, so that she was looking up into his eyes as he bent over her, breathing hard, right on top of her. His mouth was soft and broody-lipped in a hard face. His eyes were an extraordinary colour, sea-green, cloud-blue, unnameable, with pupils huge and black, dilated with anger. Or something else.  
He let go, and came round, pulling out the other dining chair and sitting down facing her. Too terrified to cry out, she sat panting for breath and staring wildly at him as he ran a hand over his cropped fair hair and grinned at her, stretching his legs out, making himself comfortable in her home. He reached out and pulled the fruit basket towards himself across the table, took a mandarin and peeled it quickly, unzipping the soft skin with one large fingernail and cramming half the fruit into his mouth at one go.  
There was something almost sensual about watching him eat; watching the mouth that had just threatened her move as he chewed and swallowed. She saw a drop of juice welling out; next second he licked his lips quickly. He was smiling as he realised she was watching him.  
She said breathlessly “Please, let me go. I don’t know anything. I don’t even know what this is about. I’m – I’m meant to be meeting my boyfriend tonight, we’re – we’re going to the theatre. He’ll call the police if I don’t show. Please, let me go, I promise I won’t tell a soul about this.”  
He laughed at her; a rough rumbling sound that hit her somewhere near the solar plexus.  
“That’s some anal asshole ya dating there! What kinda guy calls the police ‘cause his girlfriend stood him up? Ya want to ditch that one before he turns out to be a wife beater, believe me. Ya think Boston’s finest gonna pay him any mind? Lady, ya gonna have to try a bit harder than that.”  
“Please, just let me go, please…”  
He took and ate another mandarin, slowly, taking his time and relishing it.  
“I’m a patient man. I got all night. We can just sit here and I can eat all ya fruit. Or I can find other ways of asking ya. I just need to hear ya say one thing…”  
She said nothing, looking into his eyes, trying to gauge how to react, what to say next. He raised his brows at her, quizzical, as if amused by her response.  
“Maybe I will make ya. I can see ways I could enjoy that. More than one kind of sweet fruit in this apartment, I think.”  
“No! Please – don’t hurt me! I don’t know anything, I swear!”  
He grinned at her, throwing the fruit peels across the table.  
“I think ya need a real man, ya too hot for some fuckin’ idiot who runs about blabbin’ to the feds if he’s upset with ya. Maybe if ya play nice I can fit ya up with a nice townie guy, what’ya say?” He chuckled at her look of horror and stood up. “Okay, enough of this shit. Ya gonna talk, or not?”  
“But I don’t know anything!”  
“Okay, great, let’s play this, then. Ya choice, remember that, bitch. Ya coulda stopped me if ya’d played nice.”  
He was standing very close, almost straddling her where she sat pinned and helpless with her chained hands pulled back. She stared up at him, trying to stop the quivering of her lip. He slapped her across the face with his right hand; a calculated blow, hard enough to sting but not to whip her head round completely. She squealed, trying not to scream.  
“Thought that was gonna come from the other side, did’ya? Like this” –  
Another slap, from the left this time, and harder. Despite herself she yelped, and he bent down to thrust his face up close to hers.  
“And I said, not a sound! Jeezus, if ya have any fuckin’ dumb-ass ideas about screaming ya’ll be dead before ya hit the floor. Got that? Jeezus F Christ, woman, all ya have to do is tell me what I want to know and this doesn’t need to go any further. Why’d ya have to be so fuckin’ stupid about a thing like this?”  
“I don’t know anything!”  
He crouched there, glaring, breathing hard in her face.  
Suddenly she didn’t care anymore. He wasn’t going to let this stop now. She drew in a deep breath for a yell. At least she’d get one off before he – did whatever he was planning to do –  
He clamped that massive hand over her face again before she could make a sound, and crushed it in on her, hard, blocking her mouth and pinching her nostrils with his pinky finger. Left it there, looking at her, his expression becoming almost amused as she strained and struggled and then began to thrash, frantic as her air ran out and there was no hope of more. He was too strong, she would never break free, he could suffocate her with just one hand and not even break a sweat…  
He let her go, and she went limp, head thrown back, gasping for breath.  
“Stupid,” he said wryly. “Okay, well, I can work with stupid.”  
He dug in the pocket of his grey track pants and pulled something out.  
“Open ya mouth.”  
She tried to twist her head away. He grabbed her and forced her jaws apart brutally.  
“Open ya fuckin’ mouth, bitch.”  
He was holding some kind of plug with a strap attached; a sex-shop toy gag, coloured an incongruous rose-pink like a baby’s pacifier. He rammed it in, pushing her tongue down, and settled it across her mouth and chin, pulling hard on the strap. Velcro bit into her hair as he fastened it behind her, pulled as tight as possible.  
She began trying to cry out through it, panic overwhelming her for a moment. Muffled, inarticulate sounds like sexual moans. Tears sprang in her eyes. This was for real, now; now she really was helpless. He assailant straightened up and stood looking down at her as she grunted and gargled through the gag. He smiled broadly.  
To her astonishment, he pulled a cell phone out of his back pocket and took a snap of her. She wailed and he began to laugh again.  
“Ya don’t like that, huh? Okay, we’ll do that.”  
He vanished into the bedroom for a moment and returned with a couple of headscarves; knelt in front of her and quickly, efficiently, lashed her ankles to the chair, pushing them to the outside of each chair leg, so that her own legs were half-spread, as though to admit of entry. Then ran a hand slowly up each leg all the way to the bottom of her pencil skirt, just above her knees. He scooped the hem between thumbs and forefingers and went on pushing up, riding the skirt up all the way to her thighs; he slid his fingertips under her ass and coaxed the fabric higher, till it was rucked round her hips.  
“Nice,” he said, and paused to take another photo, before bending down to finger the tops of her stockings with a grin. He was looking up into her face from close-to, his brow wrinkled with concentration, mouth pouting, eyes full of light and heat.  
“Anyone would think ya’d known I was comin’ round.”  
He slapped her naked right thigh with a spread palm, four times, five, hard blows that made her gasp with pain; then turned his attention to the left side and thrashed that too, before showing her a balled fist and saying “Don’t forget, there’s so much more I can do.”  
She was whimpering with every breath now, pain and shock and confusion making her shake all over. He uncurled that huge fist and placed his hand on her shoulder, gripping tight enough to add another layer of pain. His thumb grazed across her neck and she tensed, cringing.  
Instead of taking her by the throat he drew his hand down, and she felt him grip the collar of her work blouse. He bunched the silk into his hand and jerked down, ripping the front open. Buttons flew off; she saw one land under the table, several yards away. With both hands he pulled the torn stuff back, yanking it halfway down her pinioned arms, exposing her body and her plain white lace bra.  
Another snapshot.  
He pulled a pocketknife out of his other back pocket and opened a long blade, and knelt in front of her again, stroking the flat of the steel across her belly and the tops of her breasts. She moaned at the sensation of the cold metal on her hot skin, and saw him smirk at the effect he was having.  
With two swift movements he cut the straps of her bra. Reached behind him to lay the knife, still open, on the table. Pulled the soft bra cups down and grabbed her breasts, one in each hand, crushing and squeezing till even through the gag her cries were loud, jolting out of her on each exhalation. He stood back, watching her as she sat groaning inarticulately for a moment.  
Another snapshot. Then, with a grin, he began to move around her, taking a series of pictures; close-ups of her gagged, whimpering face and heaving breasts, her belly moving with the joint effort of panting and crying out, her stockinged thighs and the gap between where he could see up into her crotch, her shaking legs, feet kicking helplessly in their bonds, her hands writhing in the grip of the handcuffs. Finally he straddled her completely, pressing his own crotch into her body, and took more pictures; of her recoiling, moaning, and the hot bulge in his pants pushed against her naked throat. He ground himself up and down on her, laughing.  
Then stepped back, laid the cell down beside his knife, and began again to slap her rhythmically across the face; the same careful, calibrated blows as before, hard enough to hurt but not to break skin or do any visible damage. Spanked her bare thighs again, more and more roughly. Finished with a stinging slap across each naked breast. Then photographed her once more as she hung crying with muffled wordless sounds, slumped over in her bonds, gasping.  
He stopped, then, let her choke and sob for a while. Sat down, facing her, saying nothing.  
When at length she raised her head he was watching her with his head slightly on one side.  
“Well? Ya gonna talk to me yet?”  
She could feel tears running down her face; but she couldn’t say yes. There was nothing she could tell him. She tried to say again “I don’t know anything” through the gag. “Ah uh uh ahhuh…”  
He pursed his full lips, pouting at her. “Okay, your choice.”  
He took another picture, as she faced him, tear-stained and shaking, her eyes wild. Set the cell phone down again and sat back, legs spread, just looking at her. After a moment his left hand moved to the front of his thigh. He began to graze his thumb across the bulge of his erection absent-mindedly. Then stopped, as he saw how her eyes had gone straight to the movement.  
He chuckled. “I don’t believe ya... I do not believe this woman!”  
Suddenly he was up close, scooping a breast in each hand again, kneading and working her flesh, squeezing her nipples till she moaned. He bent and sank his mouth onto her, taking a great mouthful of one breast, sucking and licking at her then dragging slowly back with his teeth raking the sensitive skin. When he drew away at last and replaced his hand, gripping her again, she could tell that both her nipples were as hard as diamonds under his palms. He began to laugh.  
“I don’t believe ya!” he said again. He was slightly out of breath. “I fuckin’ break into ya apartment, I hit ya and humiliate ya and threaten ya and ya turned on by it? Ya one dirty fucked up bitch, ya know that? Ya one filthy whore to be workin’ in that respectable job. Ya hot for me, bitch? Are ya fuckin’ hot for me?”  
Even as she was trying to moan her stifled denial he was sliding his hand up between her thighs, pushing into her crotch. She tried to say no, gasping “nuh, nuh, nuh” through the gag as he worked his fingers inside her panties. When she tried to wriggle free he grabbed her hip with his other hand, pressing her back into the chair painfully hard. He slid the pads of two fingers across the throbbing opening of her cunt, grinning like a kid with an ice-cream cone.  
“Dirty, dirty girl,” he said appreciatively. “No way can ya claim that’s perspiration! Oh, ya so wet… Fuckin’ dirty girl, I’m trying to beat information out of ya and ya enjoyin’ it!”  
In a single jerk he removed her panties, dragging them down to leave them stretched between her ankles before plunging his left hand back up between her legs. One fingertip found her clit and an inarticulate wail escaped her as he pressed sharply home into the burning sensitivity there. She closed her eyes as he began to work on her, slow and steady, alternating a smooth spiralling movement and an up-and-down pressure rubbing just to the side of her clit, working the wetness he had found to lubricate every moment into perfect, silken slickness. He slid two fingers into her and out again, making her gasp, helpless as he took control completely. Driving her out of her mind, lust and shame melding together like fire inside her. She was moaning with each breath, high-pitched sounds fluting out through her nostrils. She could hear his breathing, pounding loud as an engine in front of her as he focussed on forcing her into pleasure; and the soft, wet sounds of his fingers pushing in her juicy, dripping cunt. Pushing into her, thrusting inside and pulling back, spreading her, crooking against her pulsing flesh and pressing, pressing, tearing her resistance down and pouring bliss out as she fell over the edge of sanity into an orgasm like something exploding within her body.  
She wailed inarticulately as wave after wave of pleasure pounded through her, feeling herself pulling on him as though to clutch his fingers inside her body and drag them deeper in. He kept working her, pushing her further than she had believed possible as she writhed in the chair, consciousness reduced to stifled cries and slippery gushing wet heat and ecstasy...  
She was aware of coming back to reality gradually, panting like a machine, her cunt aching with the pleasure he had extracted from her, aching and throbbing as she gasped for more.  
Her head drooped forward and she forced her dizzy eyes open. He was untying the scarves that had lashed her ankles to the chair. When he looked up at her his eyes were wide and blown, and he was panting almost as hard as she was. She realised that as she slumped, barely-conscious, a moment ago, her hands had been freed and re-cuffed, in front of her this time. Even as she struggled to make sense of things he grabbed her linked wrists and pulled her up and over his shoulder in a single movement. He stood, carrying her like a sack of wheat, one hand gripping her bare ass proprietorially.  
He strode a few paces, stopped and threw her straight down off his shoulder. For a second panic hit her as she flew through the air, helpless to save herself; then she hit the springy mattress of her own bed, unhurt.  
He crawled onto the bed and pinned her down with his weight, lifting her arms above her head and holding them there with one hand. Into her face he said in a breathless hiss “If it’s gonna be like this, I want me some fun too.”  
He grabbed one of her legs and forced it up, almost to her chest. She whimpered as her hamstring stretched painfully, and he grinned and shoved again, pumping her leg up and letting it relax, pushing her into the pain and releasing her, over and over. Then let go, lowering his hand to work himself out of his sweat pants and release the erection he had been holding in for the last hour or more. He was breathing fast, those shifting-coloured eyes locked on hers as he spread her and began to push himself into her entrance.  
He was thick and hard and hot and she moaned at the size of him. He pushed on, infinitesimally slowly, his eyes like flames as he savoured every second of forcing himself into her body. She lay panting and whimpering, trapped between arousal and despairing shame. He held still for a moment, deep inside her, letting her feel the strain as she stretched round him; then bent his head into her and sank his teeth viciously in her shoulder, and began to pound into her, hammering her into the bed and moaning into her naked skin. He wrestled her legs back up, pushing hard and fast inside, deeper and deeper, striking her to the quick, and bit and worried at her collarbone till she was sure he must have drawn blood.  
She began to struggle insanely, and her writhing seemed to drive him further; suddenly he slid his free hand between their bodies and pinched her clit, letting his thrusting movement press and drive it with a rhythmic pulse that set her on fire. The waves began to build inside her again and she lost control, caught in the ripcurl, drowning as a second orgasm hit her like a tsunami.  
She began to yell his name into the gag.  
He let go her cuffed hands and released the velcro with a ripping sound, pulling the plug from her mouth and freeing her to scream.  
“Jem! Jem! Jem! Oh, God! Jem! Jem, oh, Jem, oh, ohh…”  
Next second she felt him come in her, losing his grip and burying his face in her wounded shoulder, pulsing into her like a geyser blowing, crying out like a child in pain for a moment as he let go. Moaning her name as he came back down.  
They lay tangled together, both panting, exhausted.  
After several minutes she had got her breath back enough to say his name again.  
“Oh, Jem. Ya fuckin’ twisted bastard. That was so good.”  
She felt his lips move on her skin as he grinned. He propped himself up on his elbows and lay looking down into her eyes, still inside her, soft now and tender.  
“Did ya like that, then, babe?”  
“Fuckin’ hell, ya goddam psycho, yeah…”  
She began to laugh suddenly, locking her cuffed arms over his neck to keep him close, knowing her laughter would rock right through his body at the moment.  
“Thank Christ ya not the sort of guy who’d really try to take me to the theatre!”  
“Oh, God, I nearly lost it when ya said that! Better than the theatre, then, huh?”  
“This was theatre, ya fuckin’ psycho monster. My hot monster.”  
“Oh, babe, ya the hot one… I need ya so much.”  
“I need ya too, and ya mine.”  
“Ya mine, babe, all mine.”  
He leaned in to kiss her, the mouth that had cursed and threatened her as soft as a baby’s on her lips, his tongue probing and thrusting sweetly against hers for a long minute.  
When the kiss ended and she had caught her breath she said “Would ya take these things off me now? I’m not gonna be able to make supper in handcuffs…”  
“I kinda like ya cuffed. Not goin’ anywhere.”  
“I’m not goin’ anywhere anyway. Unlock me, babe, wontcha, please?”  
He smirked as he reached for the key on the nightstand and unlocked the handcuffs, laying them beside the pillow before he took another long kiss. She wrapped her legs round his and stroked the backs of his thighs with her feet, snaked one hand into his fuzzed hair as the other caressed slowly along his body.  
He groaned with pleasure, and she laughed again happily. She put one foot down for a moment for traction and bracing herself she flipped him and climbed on top, smiling down into his familiar face. The precious baby face of her hard man, her tough guy who could let himself go, let himself be better, let himself be worse, let himself be anything; with her, just with her.  
“Ya mine, Jem.”  
He was grinning up at her, contented like a well-fed sleepy puppy. She twined her fingers through his long ones, bending to rest her head on his shoulder for a moment and planting a kiss on his throat. Then lifted herself up again, smiling lovingly at him. She picked up the handcuffs idly.  
“These were real effective. I had no idea how fuckin’ impossible it is to move in them. They fit so close. How’d they manage if they had to cuff someone with wrists like these?” – patting his in illustration – “Ya arms are, like, twice the size of mine.”  
He grinned. “They adjust. Like this” – showing her – “See?”  
“Oh, hey, that’s neat! So now” – she clicked one shut experimentally onto his right wrist – “Oh yeah, that fits ya fine. Hehe, I got ya cuffed now, baby!”  
He was still laughing at the thought when she took his other hand gently, and pushed it against the struts of the headboard for a second; his expression froze as he realised too late what she had done. He gave a struggle, half in disbelief, and then in all seriousness, and sudden fury turned his eyes to fire for a second. The cuffs were on.  
“What the fuck? What ya playin’ at? Lemme go!”  
She reached across him to pick up the discarded gag, and as he opened his mouth to shout another angry demand she shoved it roughly in, pinning him with all her strength. She had just enough time to get the two ends of velcro together before he bucked her right off in a rage. He was less efficiently gagged than she had been, but quite well enough to muffle any actual words, and the cuffs held him trapped in the bed. She picked herself up and straddled him again as he subsided and lay glaring at her.  
“Ya mine,” she said. And began to work her way down his body, repaying every shock and every pleasure he had given her. Hearing, with immense satisfaction, his inarticulate voice pass gradually from strangled words of abuse into helpless groans.  
She smiled against his skin, and took her time.

**Author's Note:**

> It seems to me Jem would probably never have wanted for sex, given that pretty much the entire fandom for The Town reacts to him with unbridled and whimpering desire. I wanted to do a story about a role-play of this particular kind, and thought it would be interesting to see if I could tell it in such a way that one didn't realise initially it was sex-play rather than a real assault. Jem was the obvious man to enjoy a game like this...


End file.
